Dystopia
by yellow-turtle-fic
Summary: Ion worked under Naomi for millennia before allying with the King of hell. This is a brief account of his life in heaven. It is a story of mind control, hopelessness, genocide, doubt, and the rope with which the angels hanged themselves.


Ion no longer trusted Esper.

For the last few million years, he had been the only thing close enough for Ion to call a friend. Now he was one more stranger who surveyed his every move, waiting for him to slip. One more pair of eyes he needed to hide from.

It started on the night of the Son's crucifixion.

They were huddled close, in the way they usually clung to each other when they shared their bitterest, deepest secrets, both in need of reassurance. "Do you… do you ever think… that Lucifer's punishment was too harsh?" Esper had whispered.

"You cannot say such things, brother," Ion hissed back at him in alarm, mindful of possible eavesdroppers.

"Our Father gave them everything. Free will. Love. He left us with nothing." It was as if a gate had opened, and a lifetime of resentment flowed out of his mouth. "Look at what the hairless apes have done. Look at their cruelty. They cannot love God the way we do. They are petty. They are stupid and small. They are not deserving of his love as we are." Esper chocked the words out haltingly, as if he hardly believed his own folly for saying such blasphemies aloud.

Ion surveyed their surroundings, panic rising like bile in his throats.

"He… He created mankind to love Him out of choice, rather than duty. We serve a different purpose. Free will was not meant for angels," Ion stammered, almost by instinct. They were the same mechanical sermons that had been hammered into the host for as long as he could remember, repeated so many times that they sounded like slogans rather than excuses. He'd spent his existence trying not to question them.

"If God gave us a choice, we would choose to love him. Every one of us would love him more fiercely than the most faithful of humans. Why did we never get a chance? Lucifer was right. It's unfair."

Ion should have reported him to Naomi immediately. He did not.

Naomi inevitably found out anyway.

He was sent to her, naked and alone under her searching gaze. "Ion," she beckoned. "Do not be afraid. What we did to Esper was a mercy. Do you understand?"

"I understand. His doubt deserved to be punished." Ion kept his faces bowed. He was accustomed to his superior's manipulative brand of intimidation, but being on the receiving end of it was a different matter.

"Good. I am glad you agree. Next time something like this happens, you must come to me directly. Don't give me a reason to question your steadfastness."

"Yes. Yes, of course. Next time I will come to you at once."

When Esper emerged again, the icy detachment with which he greeted Ion was not unexpected. In fact, compared to the countless angels that went through the process, Esper's symptoms were fairly mild. But it hurt to know his closest brother had endured such suffering. He imagined Naomi drilling through his friend's eyes, carving away at his insides with her sharp instruments, and Ion's grace shivered at the grotesque imagery.

"I didn't tell her," he confided feverishly. "I don't know how she found out. It wasn't me. I am so sorry…"

"Next time you will tell her immediately, Ion."

Esper wasn't quite the same after he came back, but he was close enough for Ion to pretend.

When Anael fell, her grace hurtling into the earth, ripping through the fabric of the world with a fiery trail, Ion made his big mistake.

He did not remember it.

"Brother, do you know what it's like to be stationed on earth?" he asked. His tone was too wistful. He should have been more cautious. He should have known that Esper was changed. "Sometimes I wish I was assigned to a garrison down there. Watching over humanity sounds fascinating."

"I hear it's terribly dull," Esper replied absently. "The little humans do not live long enough to learn. It's repetitive to see them make the same mistakes over and over. And the angels on earth tend to develop a rebellious streak, away from heaven for so long."

Ion sighed. "Would it be so bad to be slightly farther from heaven?"

Esper said nothing for a beat or two. "Why do you wish to leave heaven, my brother?" he asked, voice soft and even.

"No, I didn't mean… I just…" Ion pressed closer to him, in search of the confidante he did not yet know was lost. "Sometimes I find our daily tasks a bit difficult. I wish my job was to witness freedom, rather than to take it away. Don't you?"

Esper shook his head sadly. "Ion. I love you very much, but you know you cannot be allowed to say such things."

Afterwards, every sentence of their conversation was erased. He never remembered what landed him in trouble. Nor did he remember the punishment itself, aside from a faint remnant of unspeakable dread. He'd seen enough on the job to know exactly how Naomi had butchered his mind, and he wished he could forget about that too, but his duties prevented the relief of a complete wipe.

He was tired and blank when his friend embraced him and told him, "I hope you understand why I did it. You needed to be washed clean of your treachery."

And a friendship millions of years old ended just like that.

Ion never forgave him, and he couldn't even remember why.

"Is he going to be all right?" the young angel asked tensely.

"Castiel brought this on himself." No matter what Ion felt in his heart of hearts, he always presented a stony front to outsiders. He was a professional. Heaven's elite. "He needs to be fixed. We do it out of mercy, I assure you."

The soldier - Balthazar - paced quickly, his wings twitching and flapping in worry. "I cannot believe he almost disobeyed on such a scale. He was going to tell that bloody human the truth! I don't know how or why, but the Righteous Man has completely made him go off the deep end. Castiel is a good leader, I swear to our Father. This is very unlike him."

Rather than distancing himself from his disgraced superior, the nervous angel was trying to defend a rebellious friend. The loyalty he showed, though ill-advised, was admirable.

Ion remembered how frustrated Naomi had always been by Castiel in particular. He never directly disobeyed the rules. Never. However, if he thought his orders were wrong, he didn't follow them completely either, always on the lookout for a loophole. But while most angels only needed one or two sessions to regain absolute obedience, Naomi's best efforts never seemed to stick for very long with this one. He kept coming back. It was strange and a bit inconvenient.

Everyone else only saw a stick in the mud angel who believed in the Father completely, worked tirelessly to complete his missions, and genuinely appreciated mankind. His small trangressions were subtle enough to go mostly unnoticed, and there were no reports of verbal defiance at all. Outside of her trusted subordinates in their little corner of Intelligence, few angels knew of Naomi's repeated failures. After all, part of their job was to maintain the illusion of order.

But this time, the line was well and truly crossed. A huge, public show of direct disobedience would not be easily forgiven by the higher ups. Ion wondered if Dean Winchester had finally tipped Castiel 's precarious scale in favour of rebellion. He wondered why anyone would let themselves be swayed by a man, of all things.

"It was good of you to come for him, Balthazar," Ion said gently. Once, it had been Ion pacing about, impatiently waiting to collect his friend. The loneliness still weighed on him sometimes. "I'm sure Castiel will be grateful for your care."

"He'd better be," the angel laughed. "I had to call in a few favours before someone finally pointed me to your little corner of heaven. Never even knew this place existed. You're quite the secretive lot." He kept his voice light, but there was an unmistakable sliver of fear in his grace. Being dragged back to heaven for conditioning was one of the worst fates that could befall an angel of the garrison. Fear of such retribution generally helped keep stragglers in line.

Ion thought of the slaughter of the first born. Castiel had been caught panickedly slathering lamb's blood on the doors of doomed unbelievers. Balthazar had reportedly seen him, muttered "Damn it all," and brought his friend three more lambs before denying involvement. It was by far their biggest blunder to date, and yet they were let off with a slap on the wrist. After all, they were not the only angels who had done regrettable things during the plagues. The drop in morale alone had forced an unprecedented amount of angels to seek treatment. Naomi had been too swamped to care about Castiel's stupid devotion to humans.

In the end, despite their mutinous efforts, none of the children were saved. They should have known it was useless to go against the will of heaven. Castiel fought his punishment, claiming he'd never actually disobeyed his orders. Balthazar did not fight.

Of course, Balthazar had visited Naomi's little alcove once before, but he simply did not remember.

"Castiel? "

A shrunken figure stepped out of Naomi's care. He looked on the verge of collapse. His grace was frayed and brittle.

"Castiel!" Balthazar called out as he rushed to the battered angel. "Are you alright? Cassie?" There was no reply. The emptied rebel slumped against Balthazar's grasp, dead to the world, eyes open and unseeing.

"Hey, come on now. I've got you. What in God's name is wrong with him?"

Ion was taken off-guard himself, but he remained utterly professional. "Castiel might need some time to rest, but his purpose will be true. He will come back to us brighter and more righteous. He will no longer waver because of insignificant distractions."

The young angel held his brother up, more frightened than ever. His eyes were full of impotent hatred for Ion. For Naomi. For the ruthlessness of heaven.

"He tried to derail the grand plan, Balthazar," Ion warned. "He deserved every ounce of his punishment."

"I know." The soldier swallowed his anger. "Thank you."

Balthazar pressed his unresponsive captain closer against him and disappeared in a quiet flutter of wings.

Ion stepped into his superior's chamber. She was putting away her tools, her movements graceful and sure. She seemed pleased by a job well done.

"Balthazar may become a problem," Ion commented.

Naomi nodded. "He was involved with that lamb business during the plagues of Egypt. I remember him. Did he need my skills before then?"

"I don't believe so. He has no prior history."

"I see. The plagues took a great toll on all of us. I'm willing to give him a chance for the moment."

Ion shuffled a bit, unsure. It was not his place to question, and yet… "Naomi, do you really think Castiel is ready to go back into the field?"

"I've been told he is still useful because the Winchesters trust him. Apparently it's too late to send a replacement," she said disdainfully. When Naomi learned that the Righteous Man was saved, she did not celebrate like the rest of the host. Nor did she decide to forgive Castiel's past digressions, in light of his strength and diligence in hell. Instead, she had predicted trouble. So far she was right.

"I mean, do you think he will… recover?"

Naomi's eyes narrowed. She turned to him, and at that moment Ion was struck by the quiet, unassuming beauty of her grace. "You want to know what I've done."

"Well, what _did_ you do to him, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Nothing too extreme. However, because of the severity of the offense, I was finally given license to use one or two more permanent methods. And I was extremely thorough. From now on, we won't be seeing him again."

So that was the reason for her good mood.

Ion repressed a wave of disgust. Even Naomi's most gruesome tortures did not usually require permission from on high. Whatever became of Castiel, he only hoped he was still able to properly function.

"I'm sure you know best, sister."

Naomi turned back to her sharp instruments. "Remember to set up surveillance on Balthazar," she ordered. Ion took it as his cue to leave.

"I will."

"Thank you, brother."

"We cannot side with Castiel's mutiny. He has destroyed everything we worked towards for the past millennia, all because he was enamored with some human BOY! And now he wants to take over heaven?" Muriel thundered.

"Yet our Father has brought him back twice. He was obviously chosen for a purpose. Who are we to question God's decisions?"

"We don't know if he truly represents God. What if he is taking advantage of the Lord's forgiveness to serve his own gains?"

Naomi listened to the animated proceedings. She sat unperturbed, as unreadable as a deep body of water.

For a bright, shining moment, Ion had considered running away from his post in Intelligence to join the resistance. He would fight for something he believed. He would follow a leader who was appointed by God, rather than by cruelty and ambition and arrogance. He would help deliver freedom unto the angels of the Lord.

But Ion had never been a soldier. He had never been brave. He had never dared hope.

"We will not take part in the war," Naomi's decision cut through the din. "We will wait for a victor to emerge."

Ion didn't even know if he sided with Castiel anymore. He didn't know if he wanted a second apocalypse either.

The only thing he knew for certain was that no matter who won, the angels would not find free will. Even if God himself blessed His angels with freedom, Naomi would patiently carve it out of them piece by piece.

Bodies.

There were bodies everywhere. They were in every heaven he fled to. Wings burned on top of each other, swatches of feathery soot marring cement and cobblestones and grass. The glazed, graceless faces of his brothers and sisters were frozen in eternal agony. So many were dead. So many…

"Ion? Ion?" he heard someone call.

"Samandriel," he breathed, recognizing the brother that stood before him as one of Castiel's followers. "What? This… How… How could he?…" He couldn't put the carnage into words. He couldn't.

"Castiel has swallowed the souls in purgatory," Samandriel whispered. "We tried to stop him, but he would not listen. He was too intent on stopping the apocalypse, and he knew we were losing the battle. He worked with the King of hell to find all those millions of inhuman souls…"

"He killed them all. He killed them all!" Ion screamed, the sheer horror hitting him in the chest like an angel blade.

"Brother," Samandriel said soothingly, "you didn't fight for Raphael, there must still be hope for you. I am gathering survivors. Please, join me. Don't stay here, wandering amidst the dead," the angel's pleas were exhausted. He'd obviously taken care of many more siblings aimlessly lost in despair before Ion had crossed his path.

Ion wanted Naomi to sink her fingers into his mind, and tear out the devastation before him. He wanted to forget everything. He wanted empty, artificial relief.

How could Castiel have done this? One of their own brothers? In an instant, he had decimated more angels than all of the divine casualties suffered since the dawn of time. The pain of civil war suddenly seemed small and insignificant by comparison. Castiel's voice still resonated throughout the wreckage of heaven, amplified by souls and mutated grace, and Ion let it ring in his ears. "Be obedient, children. Or this will be your fate."

A bloodthirsty monster for a Father, and a heaven full of ashes.

So this was their hope. This was their free will.

"Don't question my judgement," Naomi snapped dangerously. The steel wasn't completely gone from her spine, but she was more tired than before. At times, there was an uncertainty to her that had never existed before the massacre.

"This is a waste of time and resources. We should sentence him to death, if only to avenge our lost brothers and sisters," Ion replied, barely containing his disdain.

"Castiel is useful to me. That's my final say on the matter."

Naomi had never wanted to lead heaven. She was much more comfortable running her own operation in a discrete corner. But in the chain of command, she'd been the one with the decency to stay alive, and she had shouldered her responsibility without complaint. Ion knew what they called her behind her back. Bureaucrat. Inexperienced. Weak. And none even dreamed to replace her, because there was no one else.

There were so few of them left now.

"Castiel will only disobey again. How useful will he be when he once more betrays us for the sake of his beloved humanity?" Ion sighed. He didn't even know why he bothered opening his mouth. His opinion never had any import.

"Not this time. This time he will stay loyal to us, like he was meant to be. I am fixing him once and for all," Naomi said with complete conviction.

And right then, Ion realized that Naomi wasn't pointlessly torturing a mass-murderer for revenge.

No. Naomi truly believed that she could fix that broken shadow of an angel. She was giving him a second chance. She was trying to save him from himself. She was being _merciful_.

Ion watched as Castiel killed his eight hundred and thirtieth Dean Winchester.

Finally, Ion gave up. He decided that it didn't matter. None of it.

He wanted to leave heaven, or at least to escape the shambles of his mind. Or to die.

Nothing else mattered anymore.


End file.
